Redemption
by Jade R. Rayne
Summary: What if it wasn't Beth's head that Dawn shot… What would've happened next? Will Daryl and Beth have their reunion after all? Setting at Season 5 MSF. (My ship still sails!) Screw the writers of TWD. BETHYL ON! [["You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon." - Beth Greene]]
1. Prologue

I'm in denial. Beth's not gone.

**Redemption**  
><em>Prologue<em>  
>[Arc]<p>

"I get it now…" She whispers before plunging the scissor into the older woman's shoulder. She truly didn't want to hurt her. She just wanted her to give up on taking Noah. She truly thought that perhaps… just maybe Dawn was a changed woman. She wanted to believe what she had told her just hours ago were true. That Dawn did want to change.

She was wrong. Fatally wrong.

When she spoke to Noah with that smug look on her face, Beth couldn't just stand back any longer. She wanted to stop her, to stop Noah from leaving. But... it was not a smart move.

In the next few seconds, the grey walled world around her exploded in a massive storm of white clouds. A pain she had never experienced before tore into her right shoulder.

All around her, gunshots were fired.

Her knees gave under her when she felt as if her guts were being pulled out one miserable inch at a time. Her grey turned white vision began to blur into darkness as her back clashed against the linoleum floor.

Gunshots, screaming and chaos continued around her, oblivious to her pain.

Thick viscous liquid warmed her hips and the back of her head.

She can hear everything around her, and yet, nothing registered. As if the sounds were just sounds.

Then she saw his face… Daryl. His eyes were rimmed with tears, his brows were furrowed in a deep curve.

In her dimming vision, she saw his lips move—speaking to her.

She hears him, but she couldn't understand his words. She parted her lips to say his name, and yet no words were spoken.

She felt him slip his arms under her neck and knees. Daryl. His scent, his warmth surrounded her. She hears him shouting at someone, for something. Then her ears began to ring, drowning out the chaotic sounds of the background and the sweet rasp of his frantic voice.

Her eyes slipped shut and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder softly, too tired… too cold to stay awake.

Her consciousness began to slip away despite her best efforts to hold on. Every time she felt the pull of absolution, of darkness, her body was jostled roughly as if to wake her.

It was Daryl. He was her anchor, keeping her grounded in this cruel, miserable world they lived in.

"Daryl," she called out to him the best she could, trying to let him know she acknowledges his efforts. '_I'm here_,' she wanted to say to him. Her words were inaudible as her throat began to fill with her warm, metallic blood.

It was getting too cold… she was so tired… but Daryl… she hears Daryl calling her name, telling her to hold on.

"Hold on, Beth. HOLD ON!"

Did she look as if she was dying? This can't be the end for her… no. There was so much she wanted to tell him. To show him how much she improved, how much she missed him. She wanted to nod and tell him, '_Yes, I'm here. I'm holding on._'

Yet, her body did not move an inch. She wanted to cry tears of frustration, at least that way he'll know she's still there. Her body is a traitor—it did not move on her command.

"They're gonna save you Beth. They better fuckin' do. Just hang on, Beth! Hang on!"

She wanted to open her eyes. She wanted to tell them, _him_, that she was trying her best. But it was in this final moment that she realized, she was dying. The thick liquid that drenched her tattered clothing was her own blood, dripping out of her multiple gunshot wounds.

She wanted nothing more but to hold on, to see him again.

But… in the darkness, she sees her beloved father with his arms wide open and a sweet, understanding smile on his face.

_Amidst the pain and chaos, she could choose absolution and comfort in her Daddy's arms once and for all…_

A part of her didn't want to fight the pain anymore. It was too painful… too tiresome. If she ran into her daddy's arms… will she finally find peace?

/

**J.R.-**I feel totally unsettled by Beth's death in the MSF. Seriously? No. That was a terrible way to die. They could've done so much better! She's not dying in my book. She will live on in this story.

This is just an Arc, a prologue. I won't bother with it if there's no interest for this spinoff of the latest episode MSF.


	2. Aftermath

From the overwhelming support and feedback, I decided to write up the second chapter. Guys, I seriously can't express how betrayed I feel about Beth's death. Yes, at some point, I knew she was going to die. But … by an accident like that? Seriously?! She had a great storyline going, and the writers ruined it. I will continue to live my dream of Bethyl in here.

There is a lot of Beth-death celebration outside this fandom. Many of Caryler fans are saying "Finally, about time!" or "Beth deserved it, she's a moron for doing that" sort of thing. It's truly annoying.

**So, be strong, Bethylers. We can make it through this!**

I edited the first chapter (prologue) quite a bit. If you haven't checked the edited version yet, please do!

I have no idea where I'm going with this since it was a sporadic, split second decision to write this. So please bear with me! I'm going to be as realistic as I can here… so there might be possibility of a love triangle? Or Square? Maybe.

Thank you for reading, **Bethyl ON!**

**_*RANT (Skip if you think you may be offended)*_**_  
>- First of all, to me, even if Beth dies, Carol and Daryl does not have the ability to get together contrary to what a lot of Beth-haters believe. Just because she's dead, it doesn't mean Daryl will find romance in Carol. If at all. I AM a Carol fan too, but I hate the animosity between Carylers and Bethylers. I have a strong inkling that the writers of TWD killed Beth off because of the Shipping wars. They don't want to deal with the hassle no more. Development wise, Carol had more impact than Beth did. But that doesn't mean Beth didn't progress at all. In fact, Beth had become a strong person. Strong enough to survive on her own against the RottersWalkers. Her death… in that fashion was absolutely unjust. I believe it was brought on by the shipping wars… truly. Had the Carylers and Bethylers made peace early on… well… maybe Beth's death could've been avoided. **/ End Rant.**_

**Redemption**  
>[Aftermath]<p>

_ ~~ Of all the money that e'er I had__  
>I've spent it in good company<br>And all the harm that e'er I've done  
>Alas it was to none but me ~~<em>

"Daryl, stop!" He heard them call his name in concern, pleading with him that it wasn't worth it. That killing an innocent wasn't worth it.

Worth what? It wasn't worth bathing the tacky linoleum floors with these bastards' blood after all that they've done to his group—his family? They were all that he had left. And for the past day, rescuing Beth and Carol was the sole reason that kept him going on in this world. This fucking ridiculous world was filled with asshats and fuckers—pigs in fucking uniforms.

He had one of these cops pinned to the ground by his neck. Fuck if he cares to remember his name. His family got hurt and this fucker beneath him blamed Beth for the slaughter.

Sure it ain't Beth's brightest idea in the whole fucking world in that rainbows and butterflies head of hers to stab Dawn. But damn, he knew she was trying to make a last ditch effort to save the kid. And now, five lay injured in this condemned, backwards hospital of theirs.

Beth, Sasha and three of theirs. All of them, except Beth suffered a bullet wound or a few scratches. But Beth… Beth…

The thought of her limp body surged his anger, tightening his grip on the man's neck. She was fighting for her life in the operating room this very moment. And this faggot had the balls to blame her.

"Don't you fuckin' talk about her like you know her, yeah?" Daryl hissed. The cop sank his nails into Daryl's hands at the base of his neck. It didn't faze him though. No, not when he felt nothing but blood-spitting anger. He lowered his head until he was a breath's away from the cop's. Through clenched jaws, he growled at him. "You better fuckin' believe my family recovers. Or you and your sorry-ass team of pigs will find a bullet in your heads."

"That's enough, Daryl. That's enough," a firm pat drew Daryl away from his state of anger, and closer towards sanity.

He allowed Rick to pull him up with a yank of his angel-wings vest. The cop coughed and gagged as he hungrily gasped for air to refill his lungs.

"It ain't worth it. As much as I—we," Rick pulled Daryl closer to him, foreheads nearly touching. His eyes pierced Daryl's, holding his gaze prisoner. "We need them to save Beth. As much as I want to fucking kill all of them with you, we both know it ain't gonna be a good idea. Just walk away Daryl."

Daryl had nothing to say to him. His nostrils flared with every breath he took, biting his tongue was the only thing that kept him from spewing curses from his lips. Rick didn't deserve to hear that shit. If it weren't for him taking the third bullet for Beth, she might've possibly died in his arms. With a curt nod at Rick, Daryl turned around his heels and stalked towards the other end of the hall. He had to get away.

Away from Maggie's inconsolable bawling, away from Carol's sympathetic yet silent gaze, and away from Michonne's concerned frown.

The kid mentioned something about a garden on the rooftop. Maybe getting some rotting flesh scented fresh air will ease the turmoil storming inside of him.

_~~ And all I've done for want of wit__  
>To memory now I can't recall<br>So fill to me the parting glass  
>Good night and joy be with you all ~~<em>

-0-

"You alright?" Carol finally spoke up after sitting beside him for however the fuck many minutes or hours he sat here for. She had followed him to the rooftop of Grady Memorial hospital, just silently offering her comfort through her presence.

He welcomed it. At this point, he had gone too far to want to be left alone. He has a truly family now—Rick, Carol, Michonne, Glen… Beth. They had just lost Bob and now, the chances of losing Beth was greater than not.

"I should'a held her back," he rasped, his voice cracking with worry. He inhaled sharply through his nose and spat out whatever phlegm he hacked up. "If I stopped her… If I knew… She would'a been fine."

"Hey, it's not your fault Daryl," Carol's gentle arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind and laid her head against the back of his neck. "You did what you could. She caught us by surprise, that's all. She's not gone yet. She's a fighter. She's stronger now. You have to believe in her."

_~~ Of all the comrades that e'er I had__  
>They are sorry for my going away<br>And all the sweethearts that e'er I had  
>They would wish me one more day to stay ~~<em>

He choked back a sob, refusing to let his grief consume him. He pressed his cheek against Carol's hand, seeking her warm comfort. When he held Beth in his arms, he felt her go limp. When he set her down onto the surgical table, he didn't see her chest rise. When the doctor rushed him out of the room, he saw her blood drench the white sheets under her. Almost all odds are against her, would it even be possible for her to pull through?

He knew threatening the wards and the remaining officers wouldn't help the situation. At the time, he was too damn angry. He didn't know of any other way to vent his anger but by violence and cursing.

Daryl clenched his eyes shut and inhaled, allowing the mostly fresh air fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. The very act triggered a memory in him. The time before he and Beth found the funeral home, when they were still out in the open after the fall of the prison.

He had led Beth to a lake they found nearby, with a running stream of course. As usual, he didn't say much. Words were too… unnecessary for him. Too much fluff, too much lying. But with Beth and her one-sided conversations, he became accustomed of her voice. That night by the lake, she spoke a bit of her old life before the walkers. In particular, about yoga and breathing meditation. He remembered her saying exhaling longer than inhaling during a meditation can clear a person's thoughts. Would it be a good practice to try now? Because he was sure as hell not calm or clear minded at all right now.

"Daryl!" The door to the roof slammed open, the door knob cracking loudly against the concrete wall behind it.

For a minute there, he was hoping Carl was bringing good news, that Beth was alive and sleeping. The look on his face though… it said otherwise.

He didn't need to wait for an explanation. He tore himself away from Carol's warmth and raced down the stairs towards the floor his family and hospital group resided. As he barged through the doors, he saw Rick and Maggie arguing with the so called doctor.

_~~ But since it falls unto my lot__  
>That I should rise and you should not<br>I'll gently rise and I'll softly call  
>Good night and joy be with you all ~~ <em>

"As much as I want to save her, we just don't have the resources to waste on her!" Dr. Edwards was backed up against the wall; his white lab coat was blotched with blood.

"Waste?! What the hell do you mean waste? She ain't gonna get better if you ain't using what you got to save her!" Maggie pulled the man by the collar of his shirt, her eyes wide and angry. It was the first time Daryl saw her like that.

Hearing her words ring in his ears, Daryl's anger returned tenfold. Drawing up his crossbow, he aimed straight at Dr. Edward's head. "Now I ain't gonna repeat myself, doc. Use all you got to save her, or a body for a body. Your choice," his voice was calm as the dead. It unnerved even himself.

"Woah, woah!" the doctor threw his hands up by the sides of his head. "I-I'm not saying I don't want to use what we have. It's just that we only have four bags of blood left. A-and that's not nearly enough compared to the amount of blood she lost. Not to mention all the injuries she sustained!"

"I don't care about that bullshit!" Maggie shook him by his collar. "Just do it! Save my sister!"

The doctor stammered. With a loaded crossbow aiming at him and a group of angry family members of Beth, the man wasn't given a choice. It was do or die.

With a sigh, the doctor nodded and removed himself from Maggie's grasps. "I'll do what I can… you may need to prepare yourselves… It'll take a miracle to save her now."

_~~ Good night and joy be with you all ~~  
>~~ Good night and joy be with you all ~~<em>

**/**

**J.R. –** This was more of a tribute to our beloved Beth's death in the TV Series. As much as I want to deny her death, alas it is true.

Please listen to her sweet song with Maggie "The Parting Glass." It can be found on Youtube. Both versions are beautiful. I urge you to listen and release your anger and accept your grief.


	3. Rooftop

_I am done mourning for Beth's death… I will continue her story here :P _

_This is, of course, Beth and Daryl centered. But there will be parts/paragraphs that focuses on the other members of Team Prison._

_Thank you for all the reviews and support everyone! I'm glad we feel the same! I know her death wasn't truly about the shipping wars… I was being a little bitter. I apologize for that. I just hope everyone can get along now!_

_Enjoy!_

**Redemption**  
><em>[Rooftop]<em>

The wards in their grey-blue scrubs went out of their way to pass trays of food to his people. They had a grim but celebratory air around them—especially the women. Whenever they caught each other's glances, they would smile with relief and nod. Then they would look away, replacing the smile with a stoic, emotionless stare. Something must've happened here that made them like this—detached and uncaring to strangers. The women especially, they would keep their heads down as they walked past his family. Whatever happened here, it seemed as if no one wants to bring it to the light.

Shepard, the lady cop offered his group several vacant rooms. Daryl supposed she was the replacement for Dawn. He couldn't put his tongue on it; there was something odd about her too. Fuck. Everyone here seems downright crazy. Then again, his group isn't all that much better.

The kid, Noah started to pass trays of food to the group. They had the comfort of the hospital beds to rest on, but they refused. At least for now. Everyone was worried, anxious about Beth's outcome. Rick didn't want the group to be separated; after all… there is strength in numbers.

He kept hawkeyes on the young Noah as he approach them with the metal trolly with two remaining plates of food.

"Here," he offered the first tray to Rick. "It's not the best tasting, but it's food."

Rick accepted the tray, tilting his head forward as a nod of gratitude.

"I ain't hungry," Daryl all but growled when Noah offered him his own tray. He had too much on his mind to eat. If Beth died… if she died, it would be his fault. She was under his care before she was kidnapped. Like Sophia… if Beth died… he wouldn't even know how to cope with his incompetence of protecting his own.

"You have to eat something. Here," Noah shoved the tray of food towards Daryl, some of the contents in one of the cups splattered across the tray.

He ignored the kid and continued to chew at the tip of his thumb, oblivious to Noah's angered expression. He didn't bother to pay him any attention until the boy slammed the tray down onto the metal trolly—the ear ringing clatter froze everyone mid-action.

"Why are you all acting as if she's dead? Pouting ain't going to save her. There's nothing you can do. And you know what? If she was here—if Beth was here with us, right now, she would want you to eat! She would want you to move on! Because that's who she is!"

"_Boy_," Daryl snarled, "You best be keepin' your mouth shut 'round me. I ain't in the mood to listen to your kiddy tantrums." He rose onto his feet in a flash and snatched Noah's shirt into his fists, staring down at him. He ignored Tyreese's comment to stop and leave the boy alone. He couldn't. There was so much anger in him—it was too hard to control.

"I'm not the one who is sulking, acting like she's dead. She ain't dead. Dr. Edwards is in there trying to save her. And even if she did go, she would want us to send her off with smiles—not tears!" Noah in return, mimicked Daryl's actions and gripped the older man's vests in his fists, not backing down.

"How the hell would you know, huh? You barely fucking know her—," He had every mind to land a punch in the kid's jaw but then he was cut off by Noah's rueful words.

"Because she did that for me, man. We—we tried to escape once. I shouldn't have made it. She could've left me behind and let them rotters get me, but she didn't. She didn't. She slowed herself down by killing the rotters—for me! When I got to the other side of the fence, and I looked back—she didn't cry, scream, shout. She smiled at me man," by now, large tears shimmered at the corner of his eyes, threatening to fall. "She smiled at me. She… she was glad I got away. She… she's like this… because of me. If I just stayed with Dawn… if I just kept my ass here…"

Daryl released his grip on the young man's shirt—his anger simmered down to guilt. As soon as he did so, Noah crumpled onto the floor, propping one arm on top of his knee and sobbed silently.

"I just wanted to see my family again… I… She's in there because of me."

The hall made not a sound as Daryl stalked off again, eager to escape from the prying eyes of the remaining members of his family.

-0-

"She's out now," Daryl turned when he heard Glenn's voice behind him. Quite frankly, he didn't even hear the guy approach him.

"Yeah? How's she doing?" Glenn didn't look like he was bearing bad news—his shoulders were relaxed, his face calm. There was always something about this guy that made him feel comfortable around. Glenn is family—a trusted friend. Maybe that's the trick he was using. Maybe, Beth…

"She's sleeping. Sort of. The doctor said he did all he could for her, but she lost a lot of blood. He said that bullet fractured the collarbone on her right side, and most likely ruptured the subclavian artery. She lost a lot of blood man… he thinks she's going to need some more if she doesn't show signs of improvement by the week. But… he's out."

A vice like grip clamped onto his heart at the news of her impending death. He stumbled a step back as he felt the weight of a thousand bricks plop onto his shoulders. There was no way that the blood bank or any other places that stored blood would have well kept, non-clotted blood. It had been too long.

"What if we donate ours?"

"Too risky he said. Without the proper equipment here, he said there was too high of a chance of her reacting to it without testing it properly," Glenn walked up against the ledge and leaned against it while staring into the sun set. "He did all he could, Daryl. She's alive. Barely, but she's strong—remember? She'll make it. You just need a little faith."

Daryl smirked at his comment out of reflex, "You're startin' to sound like her."

Glenn shrugged, "She has come a long way. Back two years ago at the farm, she tried to kill herself, remember? Now, the fact that she's not gone yet, I know without a doubt she is fighting to stay alive. We can't lose hope. We have to believe she'll overcome this."

Daryl nodded in agreement. "Yeah, she ain't a little girl no more."

"You can go see her if you want. Everyone's been in there already 'cept you. Even Noah… and the cleaning lady… maybe some dust bunnies have gathered since the time the last person visited her."

"Are you tryin' to guilt-trip me?" Daryl griped, frowning at the black-haired male.

Glenn laughed, "Lighten up, Daryl." He patted Daryl's shoulder in a brotherly gesture. "She's alive. By some miracle, she wasn't shot in the head. Even then, I think Dr. Edwards could've saved her. Shoot, Carol said he saved her—and she was hit by a car twice."

Daryl nodded, both relieved and anxious at the same time. Glenn's right—Beth is alive for now. And if by chance she could hear him while she's laying there… he's got a few words to say to her. He looked up at Glenn, almost as if he was asking him for permission to go see her. After all, he is her brother.

Glenn caught it, to Daryl's great relief. He nodded his head at the rooftop door, "Go."

With a step, then another, and then another, Daryl made his way to Beth with words stuck in his throat. In all honesty, he didn't care if he wouldn't be able to say a word to her. All he wanted was to catch a glimpse of her face. Maybe, just maybe then, the guilt of letting her out of his sight would lighten up.

After all, it was he that opened the funeral door without checking. It was he that told her to go outside without him. It was he that lost the tracks of the car. He had given up too early. He had been too slow. If only he was faster. If only he checked before he opened the damn door. There was so much guilt, so much anger and regret. He truly believed, all of that can go away only—if only she would wake up and tell him '_I'm okay._'

He saw Maggie step out from one of the doors in the hall; he approached her with silent steps. He had every mind to ask her for her permission to see Beth. Just as this was difficult for him to bear, he imagined it to be just a fraction of what Maggie may be feeling at this point in time.

"Go ahead," Maggie stepped aside to unblock the door, nose red and voice nasally. "She's still sleeping."

Daryl nodded and slipped into the room, and froze in his steps half way at the sight of Beth with a breathing mask covering her face. She looked so pale, so thin… so fragile. The stitched up cuts on her cheek and forehead were covered with bandages. Her arms laid above the blanket, her right wrist still had the cast on.

Slowly, step by painful step, he made his way to her bedside. God, she looked even paler up close. Her lips appeared almost blue from the lack of blood in her. He couldn't fight the tears that gathered in his eyes. He couldn't fight the soft sob that escaped his lips.

All of this, all of her suffering—he felt responsible for it. He was the last one that was with her. He should've been able to protect her. If only things had gone differently, they may still be at the funeral home now. He could've been listening to her soft voice as she sang to him like a songbird. He would let her hold his hand every time they passed by the tombstone that said "Beloved Father." He would have told her by now what he wanted to say before he made the mistake of opening that door.

Sniffling, Daryl reached over the bed and grasped her limp left hand in his. It wasn't cold, but warm—as it should be. Glenn's words from the rooftop replayed in his head again. He was right. Beth Greene is a fighter. If she wasn't, there was no way she would be here still.

He let out a small sigh and stared deeply at her face, almost appearing lost in a trance.

"Beth, if you can hear me… come back to us," he said softly while stroking the back of her hand, his voice heavy with emotion. "We're all waitin' for you. Maggie… Glenn… Rick… Judith… me… We're all here for you. So don't you dare stop fightin', you hear? We're all dying to hear you sing again. Come back to us, Beth. Come back to us, lil' songbird."

He felt a featherlike caress from her fingers of her hand that he held onto. His steel colored eyes glanced at her pale hand as it twitched briefly in his hand. With a gasp, he called out her name.

"_Beth_," he hovered over her.

Her eyes fluttered open for the briefest of seconds, a small smile graced her pale lips before it all disappeared. Her eyes shut once more, the smile fell from her lips, her hand stopped all movements.

His heart hammered so loudly in his chest he could hear his blood pounding in his ears. It was difficult to process what just had happened. It was almost as if Beth was trying to reassure him—trying to tell him she wouldn't stop fighting to come back.

Daryl let out an incredulous chuckle, almost in disbelief that she had regained consciousness for the briefest of moments.

Glenn and Maggie must've heard him from the hallway. They burst the doorway with an eager and anxious look on their faces.

"Did she wake up?"

"What happened?" They said in unison.

Not once disconnecting his hand with hers, Daryl looked up. For the first time in many days, a small but genuine smile spread across his face. "I reckon… she's gonna be just fine."

/

**JR **- Woohoo :) Keep fighting Beth! So, honestly, I feel that Daryl held himself responsible for her injury. Had she not died in the MSF, but injured instead, this is what I thought how he would be acting/thinking.

Also, I saw somewhere, once upon a time ago that he called her songbird in a story. Can't remember which, I hope it's okay that I use it too.

So I won't be updating Take Me as I Am for a while. I'll most likely focus on this one and Sweet Georgia Peach. It's been crazy here, and still is. I'll definitely update when I can!

Thanks for reading, leave a review!


End file.
